One Little Argument
by Sun Arose
Summary: Not mine; written by a dear friend. It's a hot day at Eastern Headquarters, and everyone is cranky - perfect conditions for Breda to execute his master plan. Mustang-tachi, Royai.


**Author's note**: It is thanks to my very great friend that I was able to publish this story. She and my other friends helped me all the way while I was writing this first fic. I am truly grateful to all of them for beta-ing, laughing their…heads…off, and loving the story all the way through.

I got the idea for this story when I asked one of my friends "How would Riza react if…" (sorry, I don't want to give anything away). I started getting an idea, and then I started bouncing…and that, ladies, gentlemen, and the Werid (don't ask), is how this story came to be.

_Anna's note_: This story is not by me for once, but by my wonderful friend, who asked me to publish it for her as she does not have access to this site. She's nervous about this story, so be very nice to her, because I beta'd the thing, and I know it rocks. Anna out.

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><p>It's amazing just how far one little argument can go.<p>

Havoc pondered this as he glanced wearily over at the Colonel, who was still fuming at his desk. Glancing towards the other side of the room, he saw that Falman was regarding Breda with the same, almost fearful, expression. Havoc was never good at reading faces; in fact, he was just the opposite - tactless, unable to keep his thoughts to himself, and loud. No, it was rare that Havoc could correctly interpret a close friend's facial expression, let alone Falman's. That Falman would be showing any emotion, mused Havoc, proved that this situation must be very serious indeed.

Fuery kept fidgeting, starting at loud noises and wincing whenever Roy or Breda made a sudden gesture. The poor man's brain was going to give one day, Havoc knew, and then…well, then, he thought darkly, they were all screwed.

Riza crouched at her own desk filing her newly completed paperwork with unnecessary force. Perhaps she, too, was feeling the aftereffects of the squabble. Although, Havoc thought with a smirk, she could just be pondering Breda's…implications.

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><p>It was the hottest day they had experienced yet. The cranky, sweaty team had been locked in a stuffy office by their superiors to do the paperwork of a useless Colonel. Unfortunately, this also meant dodging carton after carton of Rocky Road as each came flying over that idiot's head.<p>

"Will you cut that out?" snapped Roy as he was forced to duck yet another flying carton. Breda was devouring ice cream faster than Black Hayate could, which was saying a lot. When he was finished with one container, he would simply toss it over his shoulder or check to see that nobody was looking and chuck it at Mustang's head.

Mustang yelped again as Breda threw yet another empty ice cream carton. Havoc peeked up from behind his forms just in time to see Roy go flying past his desk towards Riza's work station in order to doge a particularly cleverly thrown mass of cold, wet cardboard. Unfortunately for him, the Colonel miscalculated, and instead of landing at the First Lieutenant's feet, he knocked her clean off her chair and landed on top of her under her desk.

Havoc and Breda wolf-whistled as officer and subordinate realized how they had landed. Struggling to heave his body off of his unfortunate lieutenant's, Colonel Mustang banged his head against the underside of her desk, causing him to collapse upon Lieutenant Hawkeye once more. Both yelped in pain.

"Ya know," snickered Breda, "I wouldn't go moaning about if I were you, given your position an' all." After a dead silence in which Fuery had lunged at Breda, trying to haul the much bigger man out of the room, Roy and Riza emerged from under the desk, disheveled and flushed. Havoc noticed that Riza's hair had come unclipped. Both Roy and Riza, however, were burning holes into Breda's head with their eyes.

Hawkeye straightened her uniform and briskly stepped past the line of desks towards to door, doubtless to rewind and clip up her hair. The moment the door snapped shut behind her, Mustang snarled, turned, and grabbed Breda by the shoulders. Breda, however, refused to be intimidated.

"Something the matter, Colonel?"

Roy nearly growled. Of course Breda would play dumb.

"Do you want to die?" was his response.

It was direct, rude, short, to the point - everything manly, according to Havoc. Mustang was definitely mad.

"Well, I don't know about dying, but if you would like…how 'bout we settle this man-to-man?"

Oh, hell, no, thought Havoc. Not a fight. Anything but a wrestling match in the office, for crying out loud. Breda would never win. He was dead meat. Dead, dead, dead…wait a minute…

Something was wrong. Why on Earth was Breda challenging Mustang to a fight? Glancing over at the sweating, pig-like officer, Havoc couldn't see anyone less likely to win a fight than Breda. And Breda wasn't stupid, either. He knew very well that he would die at the hands of a very pissed off Roy Mustang if he challenged the man to a fight. He had made this too easy, Havoc could tell. Provoking the Colonel, challenging him (however uncharacteristically)…something was up.

But Roy, poor, idiotic Colonel Mustang, couldn't detect that. Perhaps it was the heat, perhaps it was the recent…episode with Riza, perhaps it was just being hit in the head too many times with soggy ice cream cartons, but testosterone levels were running too high for the man to think straight, and he nodded, a smirk just touching the edges of his mouth. Best to just go along with it and hope we all don't die, decided Havoc; besides, Roy needed a good fight to get this out of his system.

"Fuery will officiate," said Roy decisively, without breaking eye contact with Breda. "And that's an order, Fuery!"

"Why me?" whined the unhappy master sergeant. Havoc couldn't blame him.

"You know that Lieutenant Hawkeye with kill us if she finds out, don't you?" Falman had spoken up from his desk in the corner, from where he had been watching the spectacle with half-interest.

"When she finds out what?"

The men in the room jumped and Fuery yelped. Very slowly, they turned towards the door to see…

Rebecca Catalina.

Havoc didn't know whether to laugh in relief or run screaming in terror. No, he told himself, it's only Rebecca. Rebecca, for God's sake, Rebecca…

But that tone of voice…and that expression. Havoc shuddered – her best friend must be rubbing off on her (finally). She looked almost like…

"Lieutenant Hawkeye?" Roy's voice shook incredulously, and he let go of Breda's collar. "Why did you dye your hair black?"

Rebecca scowled. "Do I look anything like Riza Hawkeye to you? I'm surprised, Colonel Asshole. Even someone as thick as you should be able to tell his true love from her best friend!"

"Why, you-!"

"What will she kill you for if she finds out?"

Roy laughed nervously. "Y-you mean the Lieutenant?"

"No, the Tsarina of Drachma."

"What?"

"Riza, you idiot! Who did you think I was talking about?"

Roy attempted another laugh. "Oh, no, no…nothing is wrong. You don't have to, ahem, alert Lieutenant Hawkeye or anything. We took care of it."

That's it, thought Havoc. We're screwed. S-C-R-E-W-E-D.

"No, Catalina, you don't have to worry about one single itty bitty, teensy weensy…" -Rebecca's eyes were narrowing dangerously-"teeny tiny, little-"

"You know what, Lieutenant Catalina?"

Every head in the room swiveled to look incredulously at Fuery, who looked surprised at his own daring. Surprised, Havoc noted, and terrified.

"Take Lieutenant Hawkeye out to lunch," Fuery managed to gasp out.

Rebecca regarded Fuery with interest, perhaps because he had never so much as given more than his signature squeak in front of her before. "D'ya know, Fuery, that doesn't sound like a bad idea. The girl needs to relax a little, you know? Yeah…" She trailed off, her look of suspicion and - was it concern? - giving way to determination. Pursing her lips, Rebecca stalked off to find her stoic best friend. Boy, did she have a lot to tell her.

Havoc, regaining his composure, managed a strangled "See ya!" as Rebecca left the cluttered office. Ignoring the pointedly raised eyebrows and smirks, Havoc slowly returned to sitting position and pretended to be engrossed in his - aka the Colonel's - paperwork, promising himself that when they got out of this mess, he was going to drop to his knees before Fuery and beg his forgiveness for every prank he had ever played on him. The kid was a genius.

Meanwhile, Fuery was raving.

"I just put my life in danger for you, you idiot, but now I'm gonna die because of your stupidity, and I don't even get a THANK YOU?" Roy was blinking at Fuery in amazement. Falman was snapping pictures; it wasn't every day that Fuery lost control, after all.

"And then if Lieutenant Hawkeye finds out we all die, and you know it! Why did you even have to get so annoyed at him, Colonel? Why? She probably will find out, she's Hawkeye! And you," Fuery shrieked, rounding on Breda and pointing an accusatory finger at the baffled officer, who took several steps backwards, "you just HAD to go and provoke him like that, didn't you, you worthless pig! All for the sake of-" he broke off abruptly as Riza reentered the room, her hair back in its customary severe style, her face carefully devoid of any expression.

"Thank you, Master Sergeant Fuery. I must ask, however, that you kindly control your voice during office hours." With that she gave the rest of the speechless men a curt nod, crossed the room, and sat at her desk, bending over her paperwork once more.

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><p>"And that's lunch break!" came Colonel Mustang's joyful shout. He rose excitedly from his chair, only to slowly sit back down at a suspicious glare from Riza. He gave a nervous half smile and glanced pointedly at Havoc, mouthing <em>where is she<em>?

_I don't know_! mouthed Havoc. Rebecca was supposed to have been here by now. He turned to look at Falman, who was staring worriedly at Fuery. The poor kid was about to lose his mind and was trembling to his toes.

"Master Sergeant Fuery, are you well?" came Hawkeye's inquiry. Fuery paled.

Poor kid, thought Havoc. He'd better think of something fast before she pulls out her First Lieutenant Glare. He'll crack under that, no doubt about it.

Fortunately, that was precisely when Rebecca decided to arrive.

"Riza, up, now. I'm taking you out." Havoc couldn't blame Hawkeye for wincing slightly under the glare of her best friend.

"Uh, um, what?" was all she could manage before she was forcibly hauled up, dragged across the room, and yanked, stumbling, through the door. (Rebecca, it seemed, had long grown immune to the First Lieutenant Glare. Not, Havoc mused, that the Lieutenant could do a very good First Lieutenant Glare while babbling protests at the top of her lungs. Rebecca, he thought fondly, must have a grip of steel.)

Breda recovered first, leaping up to slam the door shut. Turning to face Mustang, who had also risen from his seat, he gave a sly grin. "Shall we?"

Mustang slammed one arm against his desk, effectively causing it to skid across the room and crash into the wall. After a glare from the Colonel, Falman, Fuery, and Breda hastened to copy, Fuery requiring more than one push to get his desk to move. Mustang repeated the process to Riza's desk, thus creating an oval ring in the center of the room.

Breda smiled. Whatever the man's plan was, thought Havoc uneasily, it was working.

The next scene proceeded as according to plan. Both opponents ripped off their shirts, Mustang barked Fuery to "get on the stupid desk right now", and Fuery requiring a boost from Falman to be able to perch upon his own cluttered desk. It was sad that in their office, such a scene passed for "running smoothly."

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><p>"And I don't know why, but then Fuery told me to take you out to lunch!" finished Rebecca over her coffee (a Grande, nonfat, extra coffee, one swirl of chocolate syrup, ten-chocolate-chip, Caramel Frappuccino that held up the line in the café for ten minutes).<p>

Riza sputtered over her own drink (a much simpler medium chai) and gasped for breath. "You-you mean he talked?" She had doubted Rebecca's story at first – her friend saw military coups in every bathroom stall, for crying out loud – but now…something was definitely up. She wiped dripping chai from her chin uneasily. "Maybe I should be getting back."

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><p>Roy pinned Breda to the ground in triumph. Fuery, who was enjoying himself greatly, was now dancing atop the table in excitement. "And this match goes to…the Colonel!" he yelled. "Mustang won, Mustang won, Must—"out of the corner of his eye, Havoc saw Falman take out a thermometer and proceed to shove it into a (still dancing) Fuery's mouth. "MMPH!" cried the Master Sergeant, and toppled off the table.<p>

From the floor, Breda was getting desperate. He needed Roy to stay like this for just a little longer... "Best two out of three?"

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><p>"See you later, Rebecca!" Riza smiled as she watched Lieutenant Catalina skip away to Grumman's office. Now, to address that nagging suspicion…<p>

Breda had already been beaten once again, and was fighting as hard as he could. He couldn't go down now. Just a little longer, and he would have his reward.

Riza walked briskly down the hall, her footsteps echoing on the floor of the half-empty corridor. Pausing in front of the office door, she cocked her head to one side. Was that…Fuery? Cheering?

She had been right to come back early; something was wrong. Huh, she thought as she reached for her keys - the door appeared to be locked.

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><p>Breda was pinned to the floor - again. Roy grinned down at him, and Breda sighed in defeat. How was he going to stall now?<p>

Both men were sweating heavily. Havoc was amused to note how different the extra moisture on their skins made the men look. Breda looked disgusting, like a pig that someone had tried to bathe. On the other hand, Mustang looked like everything a man could ever hope to be. At that moment, Havoc knew what Lieutenant Breda had been planning.

The door burst open just as Mustang straightened up.

It was Hawkeye.

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><p>"I don't know what you all think you are doing, but I'm glad I came back before you - oh!"<p>

Extremely conspicuous, what with his shirt off, his body drenched with sweat, and his position in the center of the room, Colonel Mustang appeared to be frozen. Consequently, he was the first person the lieutenant saw when she finished stowing her keys away in her purse. When she glanced up, she had gasped. Now, as Havoc watched her, she was having a most peculiar reaction to witnessing Mustang in such a state. Her mouth opened, but nothing but a gasping, almost choking sound escaped her. Havoc surreptitiously pinched himself to make sure this wasn't a dream. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, speechless?

Looking over at Mustang again, Havoc was surprised to see that he had turned the exact same color as his shocked subordinate - crimson. Why would the Colonel, of all men, be embarrassed to be half-naked in front of a woman? Doubtless it wasn't a new experience. Heck, thought Havoc with envy, he probably had been all-the-way-naked in front of at least one woman more than once.

Hawkeye managed to tear her gaze away from Mustang's abs long enough to take in the complete disarray of her surroundings, including the circle of desks, pushed haphazardly against the wall, Fuery, his glasses askew and a thermometer in his mouth, crouching against his desk in fear, and (perhaps the most upsetting), an equally half-naked and sweaty Breda lying on the floor in the center of the room, a self-satisfied smirk painted across his face. All had gone according to plan.

Hawkeye turned on heel and fled.

Colonel Mustang, his shock abated by this sudden movement, found that he once again had control over his body and dashed after her.

"Wait, you forgot your -!" Fuery called after him, leaping up with the Colonel's discarded shirt dangling from his fingertips. An awkward silence followed. "Oh, never mind."

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><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: How do you think I did? Do you love me? Not care? Should I die in a ditch? Should my friends never lend me manga again so I can never write fanfiction again? Please review!


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